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182 A VIZIER’S DAUGHTER – A TALE OF THE HAZARA WAR The girl’s face fell. “Agha, would you leave me to the torn in pieces by Mohamed Jan? m y wretched bod y thrown to the dogs and jackals to be their food? Oh, Agha, I had not thought –“ “Ah, you make my safet y the excuse because you want to fly yourself,” he said, cruelly wounding the woman who would have given her life for him in his bitterness and disappointment. “I might have known as much. Here, give me my stick.” “Agha, I am not afraid, only fly and leave me to my fate. The good God above can protect me if He will. He has protected me theretofore; but make the arrangements to -day, Agha. Who will you find for a guide? Who can you trust?” Ah! there she had touched the real question at stake, who could he trust? He turned and looked at her. “In man’s clothes no one could tell I was a woman I am taller than most <strong>Hazara</strong> men; I am as tall as you, Agha. I can load and fire a rifle as well as any,” and she shivered. “If I were put to it, I could use a knife. I know nothing of fear. I dread only two things on earth – your disgrace, and my capture by Mohamed Jan; but I swear that I would face the latter if I were but sure that you were far out of reach of your enemies, in a country where there is justice and right, instead of intrigues, false witnesses, and bribes.” She shivered again. “Ah, surely God has put His curse on this country for ever and ever. You may strive for it as you will, but it can never be great again. It must fall among the nations of the world, because it reeks with wrongs and cruelties, and the blood of those who have been murdered must cry aloud for vengeance.” “Hush, girl,” her master said, “think what you will be silent and seem gay. Don’t let your face look sad, or your e yes tear-stained before your companions. God knows what spies there may be in m y own household. Sardaro is of the royal tribe, though of a poor and lowly branch, and I have thought I have caught Gulsum trying to listen at the doors at times. Hark! What is that?” “It is but the cat lapping up the milk that I upset when I brought in your tea this morning,” the girl said, smiling and without the slightest contempt for the man who offered her no assistance in her trouble, while showing such evident concern about himself. But she did not despise him whatever others might have done. She thought of him only as he had been years ago, before all these troubles had come o n him; when he had been full of thought and care for others as well as for himself. What could she see in him that was not as it should have been? She loved him, she knew that now, her eyes had been opened within the last few da ys, these days of anxiet y and distress, during which she had had those constant visits from her mother, visits which had brought her nothing but ill tidings, and which da y b y day had plunged her deeper and deeper into such an abyss of despair that at length her lips had become unlocked, and she had been forced to appeal to her master.
183 A VIZIER’S DAUGHTER – A TALE OF THE HAZARA WAR She looked up; he had gone out quietly and had slipped noiselessly from the house without another word. Then she threw herself down on the ground where the prayer carpet she had spread still lay. “M y Go d, my God,” she murmured, “save him, save him. What am I, and who am I, that he should take me with him? Place a guide within his reach, straighten his path, smooth his way and do with me according to Thy good pleasure. I am but dross. Spare him,” and after a time, exhausted, she fell asleep, she had hardly closed her eyes all night. CHAPTER XXXIV A SPY
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